


❄ Viktor X Yuuri One Shots ❄

by CheshireCatLife



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alchemy, Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - No Ice Skating, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Anxious Katsuki Yuuri, Beds, Cocaine, Cocaine Addict!Viktor, Coffee, Collaboration, Dorks in Love, Driving, Drug Use, Drunk Katsuki Yuuri, Drunken Confessions, Drunken Flirting, Drunkenness, Fame, Fan AU, Fan!Yuuri, Fights, Goodbyes, Guitarist!Yuuri, High School AU, Horseback Riding, Horses, Ice Skater!Viktor, Ice Skating, Late Night Conversations, Late at Night, Love, M/M, Magic, Magic-Users, Neglect, One Shot Collection, Out of Character, Phichit Forcing Them Together, Promises, Running Away, Sad, School Projects, Self Confidence, Self Confidence Issues, Sharing a Bed, Shipping, Singer!Viktor, Sleeping Together, Sleepovers, Sneaking Around, Sneaking Out, Student!Viktor, The Witcher - Freeform, True Love, VictUuri, Victim!Viktor, Victuri, Vikturi, Witcher AU, Witcher!Yuuri, Witches, band au, prince!Viktor, student!yuuri, viktuuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2018-11-18 21:42:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11299416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheshireCatLife/pseuds/CheshireCatLife
Summary: ❄ A bunch of long, cute, angsty and just plain weird Viktuuri one-shots.~ Everybody Loves Me~ The Exchange~ Twenty Seven~ Viktuuri Is Victory~ The Witcher & The Angel~ High Life~ Made For You~ Are You Drunk? ❄





	1. Everybody Loves Me

Viktor smiled, that award winning smile that was most likely won him the Oscar last month. The smile that was, inevitably, fake. Viktor didn’t mind, though. For his fans, he would plaster that smile on for the rest of his life. His life was one reliant on opinions so, with that, he would let himself care more about opinions of others than his own.

Because, as he said so often, repeating it like a mantra, ‘everybody loves me’.

At times like these, he never saw it more. He swished his hair back- an effortless attempt at beauty- followed by a wink that had girls, and boys, swooning. He loved it. Viktor craved attention and the ability to surprise. He relied on it.

He relied on a lot of things.

Being alone was one of them. And as the paparazzi cameras flashed, no doubt for articles about his bachelorhood, he continued to smile because at least then he could pretend that he was happy to be alone. He wasn’t. He hadn’t ever been. But, once one gets used to something enough, they rely on not having.

That’s when the boy behind the barrier asked him for an autograph, Viktor thought he might have died. Everything he relied on was about to be blown out of the way and in its place was going to be Yuuri Katsuki. And, no doubt, he quite enjoyed the flush on the smaller boys face as he wrote.

‘To Yuuri Katsuki. Call me. Viktor Nikiforov.’ Followed by his number. It took trust. If he was a big enough fan to come to the red carpet then he surely was enough of a fan to post Viktor’s private number online.

Viktor didn’t care. The constant buzz of his phone was enough if he could talk to Yuuri again.

Viktor continued down the roll of carpet, his smile suddenly seeming less strained and more of a natural aura around him- much to the delight of his fans. He relished in the blinding lights of flashing cameras and the glimmer of his hair in the darkness of his night. Viktor, unfortunately, was a narcissist and these sort of events on proved him to be so. Although, that was most likely how he got to that point in his career.

Viktor looked back, his neck straining when he saw Yuuri again. His eyes were glued to the poster of Viktor in his hands with Viktor's number scribbled across it. Viktor saw a fan lean over the boy's shoulder only for him to bury it into his chest. Viktor didn't think the smile would ever leave his face.

'Mr Nikiforov, you may go inside now.' His bodyguard, which he had yet to remember the name of, told him, his black suit as crisp as Viktor's. Viktor nodded, the smile not diminished despite the attention drawing elsewhere. It seemed his co-star, Otabek Altin- the boy with little expression until it came to his films- had pushed himself mechanically out of his vehicle and onto the carpet. And, although it seemed his fans didn't care, walked down the aisle with nothing more than the grim line of his lips on his face. Viktor wanted to laugh, Otabek was a nice boy and his fanbase was growing but Viktor would be the star.

Everybody loved Viktor.

The effortless fashion, the genetic-given good looks, the incredible dancing skills and the hundreds of partners- boys and girls. No one had given a second thought when they claimed that he was a god. Especially on their TV screens. But, no one saw the real Viktor. Not even Viktor himself could see the real Viktor. Not the flashes, not the fans, not him. Viktor Nikiforov was a secret.

Viktor- period- was well-known. No last name. No personal information. All they had was the paparazzi's pictures of him and his supposed lovers- many lovers. No one minded.

Everybody loved him.

Viktor loved it. Viktor didn't care that in the process he had lost his soul. He knew it would happen when he had begun. He wasn't naive. He knew what fame did. And he craved it. He craved the ability to surprise and only could he do that if he stripped himself of who he was and made a new man. A changeable man.

Then, with Otabek in tow, Viktor went inside. 'No plus one?' The woman at the door asked, her long dress glimmering beautifully under the small spotlights lining the floor. Viktor paused, an idea appeared. One that Viktor knew would screw him over for life.

Viktor no longer cared about his reputation.

Not everyone had to love him.

He turned to his security guard, smiling. 'Sir, you should probably go inside. The carpet will get crowded.' The man said; Viktor ignored him.

'You see that boy with the blue glasses and the black hair. Asian.' Viktor pointed out, causing a few girls and boys near Yuuri to blush and giggle. The security guard nodded. 'He's my plus one, can you get him in?' The guard nodded, although shock was prominent on his face.

'I'll wait here.' Viktor smiled and leant against the wall of the building as half his security detail bustled through the crowd. The fans watching like hawks.

Yuuri, when singled out, looked so flustered that Viktor almost didn't believe that it was him under that tomato skin. But, much to his relief, it was and the security detail were soon escorting Yuuri to Viktor's side.

To say they were a contrast was an understatement. Viktor was a god. Yuuri was, in comparison, a peasant. Not that Viktor saw that. If someone had asked him, he would have said Yuuri was better than a god. Yuuri was already his universe. Yuuri captivated him when nothing could.

But, Viktor was getting ahead of himself and as he saw blushing Yuuri in front of him, he realised that maybe this was all going a bit too quick. Viktor, then, as per usual, had a plan. A very, very, very impulsive plan.

He leant down, his mouth just inches away from Yuuri's ear. 'On the count of three, we're going to run as fast as we can, behind you and to the left. You can do that, right?' Yuuri nodded hesitantly, fear encompassing his body language. But, Viktor could tell some of that fear was coming from the fans' eyes staring at him as if he is the last piece of food left on the earth.

Then, after Viktor whispered three, they sprinted. Yuuri's legs taking him much faster than Viktor's did despite being much shorter. Viktor wondered for a second whether Yuuri was an athlete.

Yuuri turned around the corner and into an alley. Perfect, Viktor thought. 'Hi, I'm Viktor Nikiforov.' Viktor breathed, holding a hand out whilst resting his back against a wall, trying to ignore the dirt that was finding its way onto his a thousand dollar jacket.

'I know.' The boy blurted and despite his embarrassment, Viktor just laughed. The boy was adorable and Viktor could hardly restrain himself from announcing his thoughts to the entire world.

'Um...why did you bring me here?' The boy continued as a thick silence fell between them. Viktor laughed again, smirking.

'Because I like you, Yuuri. And, keeping you there would just make it a publicity stunt. I don't want that.' Viktor was serious and only did his smile return when Yuuri pointed out the major failure in his plan.

'You know running away with a random boy makes it more of a publicity stunt, not less?' Viktor's smile returned, as did his laugh.

'Oh, well. Oops? You mind?' Viktor laughed, trying to cover his own embarrassment.

'Well, you said you didn't want that so I guess I don't mind.' Yuuri smiled, brighter than he had before. Viktor edged forward, looming above Yuuri. Yuuri didn't seem to mind, meeting the challenge. Yuuri couldn't believe it. He was flirting with his favourite actor and Hollywood celebrity.

Yuuri had never been happier.

'You're beautiful, Yuuri.' Viktor whispered, their faces now so close that their breaths met.

'As are you, Viktor.'


	2. The Exchange

"Sooooooooooooo, Yuuri..." My best friend Phichit groans at me.

"What is our project going to be on?"

We're currently sitting in Geography class trying to decide on a theme for our next presentation. To cut a long story short, we are stuck and have been for the past 45 minutes. There are five options to pick from; Volcanoes, Mountains, Rainforests, Tsunamis, and my favourite, Glaciers. Phichit is determined to do Volcanoes because he used to live near one when he was at home in Thailand and is bugging me every 5 minutes about it. He's bugging me because I am intrigued by Glaciers. I just think that they are so interesting and I could really enjoy myself learning about them. Usually, I'm not the stubborn type, positively submissive in fact but with this, I am putting my foot down.

"Come on Yuuri, it'll be fun." Phichit spat at me, clearly losing his patience. He was eying me with a sour look, staring daggers at me in the process. I don't think I have ever seen him in such a strop since nursery.

"No, no... oh wait...actually...NO!" I practically scream at him.

_Ring_

Ah, as they say: 'Saved by the bell.'

With that I spring up and jog toward freedom, only to find myself hitting a wall. A wall of very muscular and attractive Russian exchange student. Shit.

Viktor Nikiforov was without a doubt the most beautiful human being to set foot on this planning. He had short silver hair which draped over his eyes whenever he looked down on people (which was always because he towers above everyone), a heart-shaped face with high cheekbones and a mix of tropical blue and mint green for his softly shaped eyes. Without a doubt, he was a dreamboat. Unfortunately, he was only visiting the school for a month. This, however, would make no difference to me because I was blessed with the gift of extreme social awkwardness, thus proving me useless in any public situation. Yay nerves. Anyway, back to the present in which I stand motionless, mouth agape **(hehe I'm so funny)** in front of a surprised Russian.

"S...s...sorry!" I splutter, lost for words.

"I didn't mean t...to bump...p into y...y...you like th...th...that." I then proceeded to aimlessly shuffle my way out of the classroom, trying to ignore the snickers of my peers. I was yet again the laughing stock of the century, go me! I was nearly at the door when a cold and firm hand gripped my wrist very tightly.

"Ow!" I mutter under my breath. Why is he squeezing my wrist so hard? I looked back to the spot where Viktor was and expressed my confusion when I saw him still standing there. Then I looked down. I was greeted by the sight of an angelic, but fuming Russian. He scowled at me and I whimpered at the pain in my wrist, I was sure that a bruise was going to be there by tomorrow. How was I going to explain this to my mum? _"Oh, hey mum, yeah these dodgy marks on my arms are from an angry midget. Oh no, it's fine, he's an exchange student, he'll be gone in a bit." ..._ Yeah, I can see that working well.

"Watch where you're going next time, pig!" The boy growled in a thick accent. I had to admit, he did remind me slightly of a feral cat who's playing with their food just to get a reaction. However, in seeing that my cries had somewhat depleted, he went to grab my jumper and proceeded to haul me up.

Well, he's strong for a dwarf, I'll give him that.

"Boys!"

Ah, I see, it is at this point where the teacher decides to butt in. Thank you, sir, for watching me get tormented for the past minutes, so much help. I snigger at my sarcastic conscience and in the process, gain some glances.

"Yuuri, I want to see you in my office now!"

I stand limp. Me? What? Had he not just seen what had happened, at the least he should bring that boy with him. Argh. This is so unfair. I looked over to see my assailant smirking and whispering something to his gaggle, snickers and chortles emerging from them. Viktor looked as if he were in another world, furrowing his brow and staring off into the distance.

"Yuuri! I said now!"

-

"If you ever feel as if you are angry, you know you can talk to any of the teachers, we are here to help."

Brilliant, another one of these. Every time I get picked on I am dragged into an office and told about something that doesn't occur to me. Why do they never ask for my side of the story?

I sigh and look up at my teacher, "Thank you for concern sir, but I'm fine." I was tempted to add a snarky comment but I thought that I might get into even more trouble than I was currently in.

"If that is all sir, could I go to lunch?"

Our session had run a long time into lunch and I could only hope that Phichit was waiting for me. He peered at me over his wire-framed glasses and gave me a curt nod. I trudged out into the hallway and looked around. No sign of Phichit, damn, I was really hoping that he would have been waiting for me outside.

I looked down at my phone to see any messages, at least I had some luck there. There was a message from Phichit telling me he was going to eat with Otabek, our other friend. Well, it now appeared that I was eating alone.

When I got to lunch I opted for a packed lunch because I was nervous to eat alone and decided to make my way towards the corridor. As I made my way out of the hall and through the corridor, I found myself with a foot between my shoulder blades, subsequently knocking me to the tiles. Great, little angry Russian is back again.

I swivelled around to find a foot in my face. Why did he have to pick on me? I could already feel the blood spurting from my nose, without a doubt drenching my shirt in the liquid. That's going to be fun to clean up, thanks a lot, brat.

"Yuri! That's enough!"

Who was that, a god? He certainly looked like one from the angle I was at. Or maybe he was a supreme being, either fitted his description. Oh right, it was Viktor. This is embarrassing. I'm sitting here looking like a fangirl with my bloody nose, oh and don't forget that I'm on the floor due to a 'let's beat Yuuri up' session given to us by the cherub (also known as Yuri). Oh my god, we have the same name, I feel so connected! (that was sarcasm for those who didn't pick up on it).

Anyway, back to where the school's favourite eye candy had just crashed the party. This was indefinitely the sort of party I wanted to leave now. And luckily, Viktor seemed to be my ride home (metaphorically).

He reached out a slender hand and offered his assistance. I was honestly too stunned to even react, let alone move. I sat there gawking at his signal of generosity and silently thanked him as he bent over and hauled me up. My face began to develop a taint of red. Correction, I was practically a beetroot.

Viktor threw his head back and began, to my surprise, laughing. It was, without query, the sound of angels. It was a deep and genuine laugh. It immediately perked me up and brought a sliver of confidence back to me.

"Thank you." I managed, darting my eyes upwards. I peered at him through my thick glasses. Viktor looked back, beaming. This then turned into a frown as he noticed that my glasses were slightly askew. He extended his hand for the second time in the past thirty seconds, record-breaking if you ask me. He adjusted them, then with what seemed a reluctant sigh, brought his arm down to rest at his side. My eyes widened as I looked in shock at the man before me. What just happened? Why would he be so kind?

"I don't think we've formally met. I'm Viktor. We have Geography together." Oh, Viktor, trust me on this, I am well aware that we have Geography together.

I simply replied in a meek voice, "Hi, thanks for the help."

At this, he grimaced and looked back at his companion, "Yeah, sorry about him, he has some trouble communicating with people." You could say that again. He beat the crap out of me. That clearly shows a colourful range of 'people skills'.

"Anyway... I need to get to class", I declared with more authority than I actually had. I turned on my heels and with all the power I could muster, made a break for the door.

I guess I wanted Viktor to stop me and pull me back, I mean who can blame me. Call me cliché but what sane person doesn't want to be chased after by an attractive boy. Yes, I was playing hard to get. This resulted in being pushed violently against the lockers.

I could feel the presence of him looming over me. I wasn't that short; it's just that he felt so imposing, thus I felt as if I had shrunk a few inches. He tilted his head until I could sense his hot lips on the lobe of my ear. His warm breath tickled my neck and I found myself completely out of breath. I wasn't used to flirting, damn, I wasn't even used to interactions, especially with people I wasn't even acquainted with.

"I didn't catch your name", my captor purred. I was practically gasping at this point.

"Yuuri...", I stammered in a shaky whisper, "Yuuri Katsuki."

Grasping my wrists, he positioned them above my head, closing the little to no space between us.

"Well Yuuri Katsuki, I can tell we're going to be friends."


	3. Twenty Seven

Viktor watched as the lights played on the bland, white walls of his apartment. He watched, continued to watch, didn't draw his eyes away. He was entranced by the flickers of light his broken lamp reflected on the crumbling walls. He prayed for himself somewhere along the way. Never had he been religious. Now seemed the right time to be, though.

He lets himself slip away, turn insane for just a moment- if only to let go some of the tension that he held. He needed an escape. That escape was just not the one you were supposed to take. He just begged that his grave, for now, would remain empty.

And Viktor, despite the praying. Despite the sudden turn to religion, knew he did not need it. He did not believe in heaven and hell, he did not believe in reincarnation, he did not believe in a life after death. Viktor didn't need the promise of heaven, he just needed the hope that he could pass twenty-seven. He was already broken, his chances of a long life gone. His chances of life past twenty-seven slim.

He had a year, then. A year to live. A year with his darling Yuuri. The one who told him to stop. The one that had taken him off it. The one that had caused him that agonising pain of rehabilitation. The one that Viktor blamed.

Viktor began to hum, a mindless, out-of-tune hum. But he hummed it nonetheless, enjoying the sound of his own voice bounce off the walls. Back and forth, back and forth like bouncing a ball.

He was no more than a singing corps. His face was gaunt and his voice unnatural. His cheeks had become hollow and his cheeks were no longer flushed with the rose pink that usually covered them.

He was a dead man walking.

The only thing identifying him as alive was his conscious. He still thought if not a little too much. He thought of his dreams, the hallucinations, the halcyon's he imagined. He saw the dream from the night before where he held the knife to his tongue and began to slice through. He remembered the dream where he stitched up his mouth. He remembered the dream where he could no longer speak.

He knew why they were there. The secrets. The secrets that so nearly spilt were burdening him. Without communication, he would have no fear of letting them go. He would be free of the burden. The burden caused by the powder he was taking, the powder that he was taking to forget the burden.

His will was a frayed rope, it no longer stood a chance. It was only a matter of time until he snapped. Or maybe, he had already snapped. Maybe that first glance at the white powder was what had snapped that rope.

He had no chance now.

He prayed again, he stopped this time. He didn't finish his words, the ones that he spoke loud and clear in his mind as he hummed the familiar tune with his dry, cracked lips.

Yuuri had entered the room, his face set into a scowl- stressed from a long day of training. He wasn't yet used to his new coach. He wanted Viktor back. He wasn't going to get Viktor back.

'Hi, Viktor. Are you feeling okay?' He asked gently, approaching Viktor cautiously, his face showing nothing but weariness. Viktor looked up, his eyes finally drawing from the wall. His eyes, which once were such a bright, aqua blue were now a dull grey- blank and empty.

'Viktor?' Yuuri continued when Viktor remained quiet, his hum silenced- his mind blank. 'Viktor?' He tried again. This time he got a reaction, a small hum of recognition. That was enough for Yuuri. As long as Viktor was alive, he would be there- to help and to love him, as he always had.

'How are they?' He asked, referring to the symptoms of the supposed withdrawal Viktor was supposed to be going through. Not that he was, his latest dose- stashed behind the kitchen sink- was enough for the shaking to subside for an hour or so.

'Fine.' Viktor's answer was short but upbeat. Viktor smiled, that smile he gave to the cameras. It pained Yuuri that now he was the one on the other end of that smile again. He had lived for years on the other side of the TV watching a dead Viktor go about his life, not that he had seen that.

Now, after a year of opening up, he had reverted back to that. There was now a screen between them. Something was wrong. No, not something. They knew exactly what was wrong.

'Can you stand up?' Yuuri asked, taking a single one of Viktor's hands, a small persuasion for him to stand. Viktor obeyed, too tired to fight. He didn't want to fight with Yuuri, anyway. He loved Yuuri.

He just didn't love him as much as the dose stashed behind the sink.

That was why he was doing this, right?

'Good, I'll cook, sit down, okay?' Yuuri took Viktor through step by step on each and every task as if Viktor was a child again. With the blank look on his face, he could have been talking to a doll. Except Viktor didn't have the stitches, that would suggest he had been fixed.

He wasn't fixed. Not yet.

Maybe not ever.

Viktor sat at the breakfast bar and watched Yuuri as he began to scramble the eggs as well as throwing the bacon onto the oiled pan. Viktor thought it smelled delicious. He still wouldn't eat it.

He couldn't stomach food, not anymore.

Yuuri begged him to eat. Viktor ignored the request, shaking his head over and over- the words never quite coming out. 'You took more today, didn't you?' Viktor nodded shyly. Yuuri sighed.

'I've had enough of this, Viktor. You said you wanted to stop! Why can't you do that? For me...for yourself!' Yuuri pleaded, taking Viktor's face into his palms, forcing his eyes upon his.

'I can't.'


	4. Viktuuri Is Victory

The squeals were no less than overwhelming. They hadn't thought that when they had organised a 'meet up' that the audience would be just this large. Around a thousand people had bustled into the small building. What had meant to be an exclusive gathering of fans had become a small concert.

History Makers knew they were famous but not this famous. There were five of them in total: one singer, one drummer, two guitarists and a bassist. The singer- Viktor Nikiforov- was the most known of the group, known for his oddly fair hair, which he claimed to be natural, and one of the brightest blue eyes in the entire industry. The drummer- Yuri Plistesky- followed shortly behind. Short with a bad attitude had gained him the reputation of the Russian tiger, his Russian accent much more present than Viktor's. The bassist had probably made it to the bottom of the list. Otabek Altin. Stoic but handsome all the same. Best known for his skill rather than his looks which more than pleased him. And despite the teasing for his short stature- despite still being taller than Yuri- he kept good grace with his fans and ran with the joke, even if it always was with a straight face.

The guitarists, although not the most famous, were by far the best to their fans. Being big fans of other artists themselves. The best friends, Yuuri Katsuki and Phichit Chulamont, had made a reputation for themselves as they answered nearly every single one of their fans questions and pick up lines. Phichit, the more outgoing of the two, never let the smile fall off his face. He aced every guitar solo and sometimes even joined in singing some of the songs. He was a friendly face and known for not only his killer solos but his killer selfies too.

Yuuri, on the other hand, despite answering the plethora of messages, was shyer. He was the underdog of the group and it was clearer than ever with the crowds in front of them. He had been diagnosed with anxiety a few years before but it had never stopped him, even when the other Yuri had threatened to throw him out of the group when he and Viktor had been getting a little too close to Viktor.

The people weren't exactly what had made the band so popular in the first place, though. It was the pairings. Otayuri was common and many of the die hard fans chanted it at a few concerts but it had failed to excite them when the two came out as a couple and now, it was only a few journalist that pestered them. The rest simply congratulated them and left them alone. That didn't make them unpopular but the fans knew they liked their space and were willing to give it to them as thanks for revealing their relationship.

What really drew the crowds were the words being chanted by the thousand or so people in front of them.

'Viktuuri is victory! Viktuuri is victory!'

Viktor and Yuuri made eye contact from the opposite sides of the panel, Viktor flashing his ever present smile. Yuuri's eyes widened, the red flushing into his cheeks. He threw his head away and the chants grew ever more present. Yuuri breathed in and out and was reassured by the Phichit's hand on his knee- platonic, of course.

The panel began all too quickly, the small meet up had originally going to be more of a chat but with the numbers, they had made it slightly more formal, even if a little hastily. 'First question, please!' The host called- Guang Hong Ji, a famous YouTuber and blogger. 

The first to step up to the microphone was a girl, around sixteen (the largest portion of their listeners falling into that category or close to it, at least). 'Hi, I'm Jemima. I wanted to ask, is Viktuuri real?' Of course, they started with that.

Just, obviously.

The crowd immediately went wild as the girl scampered off, a smile on her face. It was clear that they didn't expect any answer. That's what made the next few seconds so spectacular. 'It could be.' Viktor smirked at his microphone, brushing a stray piece of hair from his face.

'I mean, nothing has happened yet but what about it, Yuuri? A date?' Yuuri couldn't even answer, partly to shock and partly to the ear-piercing shrieks coming from the audience. At some point, Yuuri thought he was going to faint. Phichit was the one to bring him back to life with a small 'hey, Yuuri, you okay?'

Yuuri was not okay. He wasn't even sure just how far off a panic attack he was. He looked over, Viktor looked slightly worried but not deterred, looking at him expectantly. Yuuri leaned forward, his lips brushing at the microphone before the words finally came out. He didn't quite register it until the screams erupted. Phones were out: pictures were taken and videos filmed. He had said yes.  
Yuuri had actually said yes. Oh what an idiot he was.

Viktor was smiling, though, and for at least a second, he wasn't regretting his decision. Seconds later, he regretted his decision. His mind whispered all that was going to go wrong and spoke the crucial truth. They were famous.

That fact alone hinted that their relationship had failed before it had even begun.

Yuuri's heart sank and throughout the expanse of questions that came next, he remained silent. He didn't notice when there was finally a question directed at him. Phichit answered for him. 

Panicked whispered ran throughout the band and his bandmates, except Yuri who never bothered to look in the 'pigs' direction, watched him worriedly.

Viktor was the one to stand up and whisper in Guang-Hongs ear and soon enough, the meet and greet was dispersed and the band was alone again. Yuuri still hadn't spoken up. 'Sorry, this is my fault.' Viktor sighed, running panicked fingers through the hair that he claimed was going to be short-lived (the fan bases had already locked onto the receding hair line problem).

'I was just joking, I didn't mean for this to happen.' Viktor panicked. Yuuri paused, looked up and took a deep breath.

'Joking?' Yuuri asked. Viktor nodded hesitantly and put a reassuring hand on Yuuri's arm. Yuuri didn't know whether to flinch away or bear it. Going for the latter, he watched as Viktor pitied him (unbeknownst to him that Viktor was actually pitying himself).

'Just joking.' Viktor assured and Yuuri smiled, shielding away the disappointment pounding through his veins.

'I- I'm okay.' Yuuri pulled away from the group surrounding him and took in a shaky breath. 'I'm okay now.' He reiterated and felt his stomach drop. Viktor feeling the same. Viktor hadn't meant it as a joke, not at all, and despite helping Yuuri back to normal, he almost felt it wasn't worth it for the rejection.

Yuuri seemed happier now that Viktor had backed out and it couldn't make him feel worse. Yuuri didn't like him then, that was confirmed. Viktor sighed, heavy-hearted. 'Let's make our way back to the hotel, it's getting late.' Viktor spoke up, leading the way back to the group van. They shoved in and drove back in an almost silence, Yurio and Otabek cooped up close and Phichit and Yuuri speaking in discernible whispers. Viktor sat alone, opposite, contemplating. He had just messed up, big time, but he couldn't go back and fix it now. Even if it was possible, he couldn't risk it with Yuuri's current mental state.

When they reached the hotel, they parted. The pairs going to their twin rooms whilst Viktor retreated to his single bedroom. He hadn't felt this lonely in a while.

-

They tried another meetup a month later. This time with a new host in a new state. Minami Kenjirou had been happy to host them and seemed to show a delight when Yuuri walked through the door. It didn't go unnoticed that he screamed as soon as he excused himself from the room. 

Yuuri, despite feeling quite honoured, couldn't wait for the entire thing be over. Since the last one, he and Viktor had been on odd terms. Talking but not quite, their conversations never breaching the level of small talk that they usually did. He didn't think he could bear the Viktuuri chants this time.

The audience noticed too when the band bustled up onto the stage and took their seats, each on a stool that had been aligned to be in a small semi-circle. The chants quietened down when the saw Yuuri's pale face and Viktor's rather melancholy look. It wouldn't be too unusual if it were not for the constant smile he often presented the audience with. Something had changed and it was clear.

That didn't stop the audience from asking the most brutal of questions. Viktor's face remained downcast and Yuuri remained white as a sheet, that was until it seemed the audience tasked themselves with cheering the pair up. They had been seated next to each other and the audience took that in full swing. 

'Viktor, why so sad! Did Yuuri not get you flowers for the first date?' Someone screamed from the audience and despite tugging at his heartstrings, Viktor couldn't help but reveal a small, vulnerable smile. Yuuri blushed, his white skin turning at least a bright shade of red, even if that wasn't all too healthy either.

'I'm afraid he did less than that.' Viktor teased, giving Yuuri a shy smile. One which he returned. With that in mind, Viktor allowed himself the pleasure of making up details of a romantic, candle-lit dinner they had a few weeks before. One that, in fact, definitely did not happen.

Soon enough, Yuuri was in on it too and the other band members watched in awe- Yuri claimed it was actually disgust, they all knew better- as they flirted back and forth. Never had Yuuri been so confident and for the first time in so long, it looked like Viktor wasn't just smiling for the audience. He was smiling for the sake of it.

It was the smile he found when he sang. The smile he found when he was doing what he loved most. The smile that Yuuri had somehow brought out of him.

'I can't believe you didn't give me a goodnight kiss!' Viktor threw his arms up in the air in a far too dramatic way and it was almost unbelievable that anyone believed them at this point. In some aspects, it almost was realistic with that amount of money they probably earned alongside the fact that Viktor was, in fact, a very extra person.

'I can't believe that you didn't offer to pay for the meal. I cannot give you a goodnight kiss if you do not even OFFER to pay.' Yuuri folded his arms mockingly, showing Viktor a cocked brow. Viktor almost lost it there and then.

'OMG!' Yurio suddenly groaned, drawing the attention of thousands away from the giggling pair at the side of the stage. 'Can you guys stop! Does anyone have a question that ISN'T about them!' Yurio complained. The audience laughed, much to his dismay, but he was glad when questions other than the date came hurtling towards them. He wasn't the only one that was happier, Otabek- who was sitting next to him- let out a sigh of relief and gladly answered the questions that were actually about the music and not them. Although, they were used to it by now. Personal questions were a given.

Soon enough, they were wrapping up again, promising another. They were beginning to like these. All of them found a small part of themselves being entertained by the whole ordeal, even if it did mean a few too many questions that weren't exactly welcomed.

In no time, they were back at the hotel, with the same arrangments as before. They all walked down the corridor together, Yurio and Otabek slipping away first into their room and then, parallel to each other, were Viktor, Phichit and Yuuri's rooms.

Phichit, without warning, swiped the key card, opened the door and before Yuuri could even comprehend his bandmates actions, the door had been slammed in his face, leaving him alone with Viktor in the corridor.

'Um, that was-' Yuuri began before stopping abruptly. That sly guy. He and Viktor were alone. In the corridor.

Alone.

'Yeah.' Viktor breathed, at a loss for words too until, after another few seconds, let another blooming smile onto his face. Yuuri warily looked up to see Viktor looking down at him smugly, as if he were proud of himself. Yuuri couldn't quite understand why.

'It seems you've been locked out, you want to hang out in my room for a bit?' Viktor asked causing Yuuri to simply nod, almost oblivious that this was happening. He didn't want to comprehend it.

He might have started screaming.

Yuuri went inside, following Viktor closely. He examined the room, finding it rather neat. He had always put down Viktor as a slob but it seemed not. Or maybe, that was just due to the lack of things he brought and not his natural style. Or, maybe, he had been expecting someone.

Yuuri wondered who.

'Um, Yuuri.' Viktor paused for effect, turning. Yuuri looked taken aback but didn't move despite his proximity to Viktor. 'I've been wanting to ask this for a while now but...well...I just didn't know when the right time was. But, after today, I think it is. Maybe...probably.' Yuuri had never seen Viktor so nervous: anxiety practically radiating off him.

'I want to go on a date with you, an actual one. I wasn't joking when I asked last time but I was worried about you and you seemed so panicked and...' Viktor rambled on and on, giving Yuuri no time to answer.

'Okay.' Yuuri said over Viktor's rambles, surprised by his own confidence.

'What?' Viktor asked, flabbergasted.

'I said okay.' Yuuri stated, a smile slipping its way onto his lips.

'You said okay.' Viktor repeated, disbelief clear on his face.

'Yes, I did.' Yuuri confirmed. They paused for a second before the first one let out a short burst of laughter, shortly followed by another. Then again. Soon enough, they were stuck in hysterics, barely in control of their breathing.

Neither quite knew why they were laughing, it seemed pointless to think about it. They were just glad to be in each other's presence, they didn't need any more than that. That was enough. At least, for now.

-

The next time they walked on stage, there was no doubt about it. Viktuuri was victory.


	5. The Witcher & The Angel

Yuuri sat in the banquet hall, his head lying in his hands. He had been here for days and so far, no news had come of any new attacks. He wasn't surprised. Witcher's had been attacked for far too long now, no one wanted their services unless necessary. The demon slayers were being hunted themselves and would only be called if the demon was worse than the ones that came after the Witcher themselves.

Yuuri knew for a fact, though, that no one was tailing him. He had checked that. It was important to him. Yet, even with the confirmation, people tended to run at the sight of his cat-like eyes that shone amber in the darkness. Even with the perks of being able to see in the dark, it was not worth it if people were going to run away from him anyway.

His witcher training had never prepared him for boredom.

'Yuuri! Yuuri!' Someone screamed, running into the room, flailing their arms. Panting, the woman looked up- Minako- with serious eyes, her cat eyes gleaming as bright as Yuuri's own- although, green rather than amber.

'What?' Yuuri was alert, ready for action. That was the voice that came with a mission and God knew that was just what Yuuri was waiting for.

'The Prince of Leningrad. He- he's been bitten.' Yuuri looked at the woman with wide eyes. That was bad news. No, not bad news, terrible news. The prince was dying. No, he wasn't dying- he was changing. A monster that bit and left its prey whole only meant one thing: it was increasing its troops. Monsters, although solitary for the most part, sometimes creates pacts with each other and with a larger herd of them, catching innocent prey was far easier, as was killing off enemies. It was almost unheard of but for a witcher like Yuuri, he had dealt often with cases of the sort.

But never, ever, had he worked with royalty.

'And am I the one who must deal with the consequences?' Yuuri asked, a simple question in reality. A question of if the prince were to turn, would Yuuri be the one to kill him?

'No, you will deal with the problem and if the worst is to occur, then yes, you will deal with the consequences.' Minako's face was grave, her eyes trailing to the floor in pity. Yuuri, if he was no able to cure the prince, would have to kill him. And, even if the prince was a monster, it would be counted as treason.

Yuuri would be killed or would be running for the rest of his long life.

Witchers lived far longer than any human.

'I'll do it.' Yuuri sighed. He didn't want to but if it saved another Witcher from this cruel fate then he would do it. The prince deserved a chance at being well again, too. Yuuri knew he was one the best Witchers around, even if he was younger than many, he would be the prince's only hope. He had 137 years of experience under his belt now, having trained from the age of nine, he was certified for this. They picked the young to do the dirty work but they needed skill as well as naivety and even if Yuuri was not naive, he was almost an idiot for taking on the job.

He was a brave idiot, though.

Minako nodded wistfully and led the way out of the keep, the few other witchers staring at him in awe as he held his head high and walked out of the doors. Witchers were not particularly men of honour but they did like a good boast when allowed. Even in his stupidity, Yuuri hoped he could at least brag that he was brave enough to take the challenge on. He had taken too much slack recently and it was time to prove the people wrong.

He strode through, smirking, his armour prepped and his swords on both sides. Silver for monsters and iron for men. He took his best swords, the ones that gleamed in the lights. If he was going down, he was doing it with the best by his side. With that, he spoke up, his voice echoing throughout the abandoned castle on the hill.

'Bring Yuuko. I'm going to need a witch. A good one.' Minako nodded once again and scurried off as Yuuri made sure that his potions were in the right vials and his all was in top shape. Even if he cured the prince of this beast, he would have to fight the freed spirit afterwards whilst protecting the prince at the same time. It was no easy feat.

He was out of the building, jumping up onto his black mare when Yuuko appeared, her stunningly white horse in tow. 'I am at your service.' She bowed respectfully but Yuuri just sighed.

'Yuuko, you are a friend and even if not, I am of the lowest of classes, you need not bow.' Yuuko nodded, slipping onto her horse and sitting for only a few seconds before addressing Yuuri.

'Are you really doing this?' She asked, running a hand through the horse's mane. Yuuri hummed thoughtfully before turning back to her.

'I have to.' And with that, he cantered, the forest becoming a blur at his side, Yuuko a fair distance behind. He was strong, as was his horse, he would be faster than any other without the help of magic. If you counted a witcher's magic as any different. It was used differently in that respect. His could not be called magic for it was something different entirely but that didn't stop the mundane community from getting mixed up. He had long since been bored of explaining the different simply saying that igni, yes, was similar to a fireball. It wasn't but it was a good enough comparison.

The canter slowed to a trot when the city appeared up ahead. The loud was welcome after the jeering of the villages being quite audible in the normally relative silence. He liked the insults being masked by the noise of a city, more ignorable that way.

Yuuko caught up finally. She should have been out of breath but no doubt had spelled herself to look like perfection as she always did. She would not be seen in public looking like she had done anything but sit inside reading a book, just as the men liked the women. Oh, no, change that. The women weren't allowed to read books, that would make them too clever. Yuuri scoffed.

They rode through the city gates with ease. They had been given a pass to enter the palace and even though they had been given none for the city, it was a given. If the worse had come, Yuuri still had a pass to get into Leningrad when needed. Much of his work was here.

The trip to the palace was no longer than a quarter of an hour and when they reached the wreckage of a castle, Yuuri understood just how bad the problem was. The prince's room, no doubt, was located in the tower- or, at least, he had been moved there. It was clear from the way the entire top had been ripped off and thrown into the neighbouring field. This beast was strong. Yuuri was beginning to doubt his capabilities. But no, he wouldn't do that to himself. He hadn't suffered anxiety about fighting in years. Fighting was an art and it there was no need to be afraid until it was ruined and your blood was spilling enough to stop your mortal, beating heart.

Yuuri was polite enough to knock and he and Yuuko were ushered in by a man who introduced himself as Chris. He was not from Leningrad, clearly, just as Yuuri wasn't either. His accent was thick but too mixed with Leningrad's own to be decipherable. The man had clearly lived here for a number of years.

'Witcher Katsuki, I am at your service. Where am I needed?' He bowed, just as he bowed to peasants. He was classed below dogs, he had to bow for all except his fellow witchers. Although, it had become a habit now. He bowed upon any greeting.

'I would say the tower but it was destroyed an hour ago. For now, Viktor is locked in the tower but he is in beast form. He has been interchangeable, changing hourly at the moment.' Yuuri nodded but looked up at the man, curiosity filling his cat eyes. He could only hope that curiosity did not kill the cat.

'Viktor?' He asked, looking at the man as if the name was not one he had ever heard before. Of course, he had. This was Leningrad, Viktor was not an unheard of name. And, he guessed, that was the prince's name. A shame for a prince he had heard was very...unique. It was ever so common. Yuuri, despite the circumstances, was looking forward to seeing the man in person. Yuuri laughed at himself for wanting to see the man's foolish personality when he was turning into a beast every other hour.

'The prince.' Yuuri nodded at the validation. 'Where do you think your best placement is now, Katsuki?' The man asked for advice. Behind his welcoming greeting, he could see the fear. His eyes gleamed from recently shed tears and the way his hands trembled from his back was a clear indication that he was scared. And for once, Yuuri was sure the fear was not of him.

'I will wait outside the tower until he changes back. Does he have a signal for when he does?' He stated calmly, following Chris down the winding corridors, taking a sudden turn to what he assumed was the tower.

'No, he normally just leaves the tower.' Chris sighed, scratching the back of his head timidly. True, that wasn't a very fool proof plan but if it had worked so far then so be it. 'Is there not anything you can do now?' Chris asked, his eyes desperate but his words as coordinated as always.

'I can kill him but I feel you would rather that didn't happen so no.' Yuuri scowled and trudged off the battered door to his left. This would lead to the tower, he was sure of it. If the marks on it were any indication, there was a beast on the other side.

'I no longer need company, thank you. Yuuko, you introduce yourself to the house, I will only need you when he is human again.' Yuuko nodded and followed Chris out of the hallway and towards a room where many of the castle's residence retired to. It was getting late and the sun would be setting in an hour or so. Yuuri, in light of this, gathered his night-owl potion- his eye sight in the dark was good but it did require some minimal light: if he was in pitch black, he would need it- and put it in the forward enough that it would not be smashed easily but would be accessible when he needed it.

When a loud crash occurred and what sounded like a human body rolling down a flight of stairs, Yuuri took it as his time to enter. He raised his silver sword in the case that he was mistaken but was he opened the door, he found he was correct. There on the floor was Viktor Nikiforov, crown prince of Leningrad, completely and utterly naked.

Yuuri didn't bother to avert his eyes, he had already seen enough and it wasn't as if he had seen enough people naked before. His job came with many seductive demons that tended to strip to win a battle. Never had it worked but Yuuri applauded their efforts, especially when they lay dead underneath his boot.

'Prince, are you okay?' He began with, approaching with care. The prince nodded before looking up and whispering the unexpected. He looked Yuuri directly in the eye and spoke as if it was the most sincere thing he had ever said in his life.

'Beautiful.'

He passed out. Yuuri stared in utter awe at the silver-haired man beneath him. The light cast off him as if he were an angel but Yuuri knew better, he was a fallen angel- troubled by a beast but nonetheless beautiful in his true form. Yuuri didn't move for minutes before he realised he should start moving. The clock was ticking. He had an hour before he would have to slay the beast.

'Yuuko!' He called, hoping she could hear. If not, the servants would bring her forth. Then, with little trouble, he scooped the man into his arms and wound his way up the spiral staircase until he found a suitable room. Despite the entire structure being damaged beyond repair, some of the lower rooms were still in use and he lay him down on a queen sized bed with care before gathering his potions and beginning his work.

Yuuko ran up, sparing little breath and kneeled beside the prince, awing at him. He was undoubtedly beautiful. Yuuri still, to anyone asking, would claim him as an angel- fallen or not. 'What do you need me to do?' She asked, running a hand across his forehead. 'He's ice cold.' Yuuri nodded, it was to be expected in cases such as these.

Yuuri slid of his weapons belt and found the pouch that contained the rest of his potions that hadn't been lined up on one of the small cabinets beside the bed. 'Keep him warm and try to leave him unconscious. I would rather he didn't feel this.' Yuuko nodded seriously and laid her hand on his forehead once again, her magic buzzing throughout the room as she sent heat through his body.

Yuuri, on the other hand, gathered four so potions, spilling them together in his hands. He was a skilled alchemist and found his hands were the best he could use for the job. With the inky substance smothered on both hands, he chanted as he rubbed the onyx black liquid over the man's arms, staining his white skin with the darkness only a witcher or a demon could give. As his chants continued alongside Yuuko's, the black began to glow and within the pools, he could see the light of the stars. This was what he needed. He chanted harder, hoping his skill would work before reaching into his pouch, finding the silver powder he needed. Spilling just a small mound onto his hand, he blew it across the man's face who awoke coughing and spluttering but he, for the most part, had avoided the pain.

The screaming suggested otherwise. The prince was clearly not used to pain of any kind as he grasped at his throat and tried to breathe in his panic. Yuuri shot Yuuko a look and immediately she began to chant again and soon enough, Viktor was breathing again.

'Am I cured?' He rasped like a naive man. Yuuri couldn't help but snort before he spoke, standing and brushing the substance onto his armour where it sizzled and dissipated.

'Far from it but you're on your way to being free again.' Viktor nodded as he watched Yuuri turn his back and line the potions from his pouch onto the dresser.

'Who are you?' Viktor asked with wariness, ignoring Yuuko at his side- his eyes on Yuuri and Yuuri alone. Yuuko didn't seem to mind much, looking between the two with a small, humorous glint in her eye.

'Katsuki Yuuri, a witcher. My abode is not far from Leningrad, I was brought here to help you in your...predicament.' Yuuri, for the first time in years, did not turn and bow at his introduction, too busy organising the mess that was now the top of the dresser.

'Viktor Nikiforov. Prince Of Leningrad.' Viktor stated to the man's back, looking warily as the armour clamoured as moved his arms.

'I know.' Yuuri paused, looking to Yuuko. 'You may leave. Your magic is no longer needed, the worst of the pain will not be quelled by magic.' The woman nodded as Viktor stared at Yuuri with frantic eyes. Tears brimmed in the mess of blue that was his irises as he whispered what he had been wishing to ask from the beginning.

'That wasn't the worse of the pain?' The woman shut the door behind her and Yuuri finally turned, the scar- spanning from his forehead, over his eye and to his lip-becoming ever more present under the moonlight.

'No, it wasn't. We have a long road ahead of us, prince.' Yuuri addressed, finally bowing now that he was turned. Viktor scowled, folding his arms like the petty man he was.

'Then I don't want to do it...and it's Viktor.' The raucous laugh that followed shocked Viktor out of his skin.

'Well, Viktor,' the Witcher taunted 'would you rather I sent my sword through your heart because that is your only other option and I'm sure that will be just as painful.' Yuuri smiled as the man was startled into silence, pouting like a young child. This man really was unique, wasn't he? Maybe not in a good way, Yuuri thought, but nevertheless interesting.

Silence arrested the room as Yuuri set back to work, moving to the fireplace and kneeling down before placing a small, china bowl atop of the fire and waiting for the liquids to brew. Viktor watched in amazement as the man ignored the fire licking at his skin. It was painful, obviously, even a Witcher was not immune to pain but used to, yes. Yuuri had had his whole body alight before, a few fingers would do nothing more than make him flinch.

'If you didn't cure me then what did you just do?' Viktor asked, brushing a lock of hair from his face and sitting upright against the headboard of the large bed.

'I have suppressed the beast for as long as I am able. You should not turn again until sunrise. That is if I don't cure you before then. That said, please leave me in science. We are under a time limit, I would rather not get distracted by your pointless questions. They can come after I've healed you.' Viktor quieted, watching the man who stood up to him without question. Viktor almost wanted to laugh. In all his life, never had anyone stood up to him but a few rebelling peasants. So why does this man, a Witcher of all people, have the guts to stand up to him? It wasn't bravery, no. As brave as the man was, he could get his head separated from his body for a comment like that. Even a Witcher could not fight a dozen soldiers and make it out uninjured and able to run away.

So what made this man, Katsuki, different. Viktor pondered for a moment, looking up at the man. Katsuki was an unusual name, even more so than Yuuri. Viktor wondered where it had come from and after another hour of pondering he figured that the man was oriental and therefore had said his name backwards.

The man's name was Yuuri.

Yuuri, with sudden haste, approached Viktor with a bowl of silver. Or, at least, what Viktor thought was silver. 'This is going to hurt.' The man warned but left no time for Viktor to argue when Yuuri dipped his fingers in it and pressed three to his forehead.

Viktor, now blinded by white, screamed as the poison ripped the blood from his veins. It felt like his skin was being peeled off and the blood spilling like water from a fountain. Viktor could see it all so vividly in the plane of white. But, when his eyes focused again and the white faded, he looked down to see nothing but the gleaming paleness of his skin, perfectly intact.

The pale man looked up to the man above him, his cat eyes squinted and his mouth opened, snarling down at Viktor. The man flinched but didn't move away as the Witcher's finger pressed to his head once again and the blinding white returned.

Viktor prepared for the previous pain but what he found was worse. His body began to shake as his heart pounded from his chest, ripping through the skin and into the bare air. His body convulsed upwards as if something was being ripped from his soul and his back arched as a man's palm was pressed onto his heart and chanting began.

Viktor cried but it did not blur the white facade in front of him. It did nothing to alleviate the pain, only causing more pain as the body-wracking sobs broke out. Viktor had always thought of himself as a strong man but at times like this, he felt no stronger than a fly, swatted away by a man with no care for nature. A man like himself.

He awoke again gasping for breath and this time, he had a break as Yuuri went to fetch another potion. 'Stop.' He croaked, extending an arm to the man on the other side of the room. 'Just for a minute.' Yuuri paused and stood up straight in front of the fireplace where the phials of liquid would be out of reach.

Yuuri turned, his face more pitiful than any time before. 'One more potion, Viktor. Then this will be done. I hope. The chances are slim but it's all we have. This monster is strong.' Viktor nodded and braced himself as Yuuri returned with the final ingredient.

This one wasn't a liquid, exactly, but a cream. It looked like any of the beauty products that the women used in the castle- and although he would deny it, he himself too. It was white and as smooth as any concocter could hope for. Yuuri paused as he dipped one finger in, his pinky. 'I'm sorry about this.' Viktor didn't bother to ask and just accepted the apology as Yuuri forced his eyes open and put a dollop of the liquid on each eye. Trying not to blink, Viktor looked over the man on his side who was now running a gentle hand through his hair. 'You're going to be alright, Viktor but you have to blink for me.' Viktor nodded and complying as he was supposed to do, he blinked.

And he screamed.

And he prayed the gods that he would survive.

His body was torn to pieces. He could feel teeth latching onto his skin, ripping at it as if he were meat. He didn't wish to live, anymore. He prayed for death. He could feel the hair being torn out of his scalp and as before, his back arched upwards and his heart pounded out of his chest.

But, this wasn't the same.

He could feel the cold breeze on his heart and then, a fist. Fingers balled around it and squeezed. He couldn't breathe, see, hear or smell. He was senseless. He had lost all ability. He was no longer sentient.

All he could feel was the pain.

He didn't know the source. He didn't know the cause. He only knew the product.

It ended with a bang and a sword to his chest. Yuuri stood above him, his silver sword aimed right over Viktor's heart. 'I just killed something. I can only hope it was the spirit of the beast.' Yuuri stated calmly as if he had done this far too many times before but was brought out of his haze by a whimpering man by his side.

Viktor clutched at his hair, pulling it from his scalp, tears spilling down his cheeks. He had never felt such pain. He couldn't describe the pain. He couldn't describe what it felt like to be torn apart. He couldn't explain. He was locked within himself, unable to escape.

'Viktor, break out of it.' Yuuri asked gently, unsure of what to do. He had seen plenty of side effects. This was not one of them. 'Viktor!' Yuuri shouted as the man clawed small clumps of hair from his head. 'Viktor, please.' Yuuri begged and fearing the man's own actions, taking his hands into his own. The trembling limbs shook like an earthquake against Yuuri's own but he couldn't care less. Viktor needed to calm down.

With a tad too much willingness, Yuuri clambered onto the bed beside Viktor and wrapped him up into his brace, not bothering to apologise that his cushion was no more than a bulk of leather and metal. His armour was made to protect, not to be comfortable.

'It's okay, Viktor. I think it's over. I really hope it's over. It's over.' He reassured himself as much as Viktor. He had held his hopes up before and it had never ended well. The chances of success were fifty-fifty, which was more than some things he did often were.

Viktor whimpered, clutching onto Yuuri's arms. 'It hurt.' He whispered, his voice shaking. 'It hurt so much.'

'I know.' Yuuri reassured. 'I know.' And, he did. Yuuri had gone through the excruciating pain that turned him into a witcher in the first place. No one was born a witcher, it was a turning process much like a vampire's. Except much, much more painful. He understood pain and he understood the trauma that followed it. He had watched his friends die from the consequences. Less than five percent had made it. There were only twenty of them.

'Tell me it's gone.' Viktor begged, clutching harder.

'It is, Viktor. It is.' Yuuri spoke of the pain, not willing to lie about what could be about to come. Yuuri was adept at lying but he did not enjoy it, especially to a man in pain.

'How did this happen to you in the first place anyway? Were you bitten by the beast?' Despite not being the best change of topic, it was something enough to distract Viktor and quell Yuuri's curiosity.

'I had had an argument with my father and in my rage, I stormed into the forests behind the castle. The beast attacked me there. Only nipped at me before I ran but caught me nonetheless.' Viktor could barely talk in between breaths but he spoke the explanation before he could pass out. He held his hand up and Yuuri could see the small scar where a wedding ring would normally be placed, the scar looking oddly like a snowflake. Yuuri laughed, only Viktor could have a pretty scar. All his were jagged and deep, causing people to flinch at the sight of him. Yet, Viktor hadn't.

Neither noticed the position they were in, huddled around each other as if they were dependent on the other. It was comfortable and warming. It was all that stopped Viktor from passing out, talking to Yuuri that was. But, soon enough, he couldn't keep awake any longer. His body had been through far too much physical trauma to stay awake for long and his sentences quickly slipped away and he fell into darkness in Yuuri's arms.

Yuuri was not alarmed but did check for a pulse as the man fell heavy into his arms. The Witcher smiled, dragging a few stray strands of hair lazily away from Viktor's face and tucking them behind his ear. He didn't have the time to dwell on what he was doing until he saw the sun's placement and realised he had less than an hour until the possible battle would begin.

He left Viktor's warmth almost unwillingly, dragging his sword off of the floor from where it had dropped after his work had been done. He chastised himself for being so careless with it. Weighing the feel in his hands, he stumbled over to the far wall and kept a position that would allow him to fight if need be but to look unthreatening if Viktor woke up as well as let him conserve his energy. The former was only for his own selfishness.

He peered out the crumbling window again to see the sun rise high over the horizon. He hadn't noticed the time gone by, he must have zoned out watching Viktor. He chastised himself again for his lack of professionalism but recovered quickly and raised his sword just a little higher. Viktor was still not awake. This wasn't a great sign.

Viktor turned sharply in his sleep and Yuuri raised his sword on instinct. It was still not determined but the demon was there, surely, but it was fighting to cling on. Yuuri approached it carefully but as the dark abyss it had for eyes turned to him, it shrivelled into Viktor's body and Viktor awoke with a start.

Yuuri flinched back, his sword still raised, ready for a fight. Viktor looked at him fearfully. 'Yuuri?' He asked but before he could get an answer, he emitted an ear splitting howl. A sound only a beast could make. With efficiency, his body changed and in front of Yuuri was a beast.

The Witcher gulped and prepared himself. Prepared himself to kill Viktor.

The beast- somewhat a cross between a bear and a wolf- leapt at him first but Yuuri was too nimble to be struck down that easily. Not that it matters now anyway. Yuuri was dead even if he came out of this alive. The only thing he could do was save a few others by killing the beast here and now and not drop it onto another one of his friends who would then be killed too.

With lithe movements, Yuuri jumped from object to object, avoiding the sharpened claws of the hybrid. With a subtle smirk he reserved for battle, he raised his sword and leapt from his place on the bed and struck the hybrid's side with his sword- the silver shining in the day's sunlight.

As the monster flinched back, Yuuri struck again, his hits heavy and life threatening. With hits that could only be done by a witcher of his efficiency, the monster was reserved to lying on it's back, taking its last few breaths, snarling. Yuuri looked down at the beast that was far too injured to move and gave a pitying glance at its eyes. Behind the black, he could see the sparkle of blue that was reserved for only the Nikiforov family. The royal family of ice with the same blue eyes running for generations.

'I'm sorry, Viktor.' Yuuri raised his sword high and brought it down with as much strength as he had, the sword ripping through flesh and falling straight through the monster's heart.

The monster was dead. As was Yuuri.

Yuuri gasped for breath, wiping his sweat-slicked hair back with his fingers. He looked down at the beast who looked not far from a wolf that had been torn apart by its own clan when the impossible happened.

Yuuri had seen plenty in his lifetime. He hadn't seen this.

Viktor really was a miracle.

The beast twitched and as Yuuri grabbed for his sword to stab it one final time, it began to change. The body twitched and convulsed, he heard bones snapping and crunching against each other. And, then, as if by magic, Viktor lay on the floor, grasping at the stone floor.

He flinched as Yuuri knelt next to him, looking as he was exactly what he had thought from the beginning. An angel. Viktor was no doubt an angel. Yuuri didn't care if they were mythical. Plenty of things in his world were called myths by the populations of towns and cities. He knew them to be real.

Just as he knew angels to now be real too.

Viktor looked up again, blinking a few times, his face one of fright before he relaxed, smiled and huddled Yuuri into his arms. Yuuri didn't recover as he was tackled to the floor, his swords falling to his side.

The man wasn't strong but he had the determination of a bull. He grasped onto Yuuri's armour and held the bulky man to his chest. 'I'm alive. You saved me. I'm alive.' Viktor repeated, over and over until his voice cracked from use.

Viktor's arms soon went slack and Yuuri was free from him but he didn't move, simply hovering over him, held up by his forearms. 'How are you alive?' Yuuri whispered, his eyes darting between the man's lips and his eyes.

'Now, Yuuri, I'm sure you have plenty of secrets. I'm allowed to have a few of my own.' Viktor teased, a small smile quirking the corners of his lips up. It was enough to break the dark atmosphere as they both ignored the blood splattered floor and the broken furniture.

'What happened?' Viktor asked but it didn't sound like he cared all that much. He was sure he knew what it was, there was no real need for confirmation. Yuuri, in turn, didn't answer and simply started stashing his potions away in his pouch again.

Yuuri was alive and...he was going to stay alive.

'Are you leaving already?' Viktor pouted, folding his arms as Yuuri collected his swords, strapped them onto his armour and made his way to the door.

'Am I supposed to stay?' Yuuri answered, a question to answer another question. Clever but it annoyed Viktor endlessly.

'Yes.' Viktor scowled; he wasn't far from stomping his foot like a child and locking the Witcher away just so he would stay. Yuuri just laughed and took a step forward and dared to brush another stray hair behind the pale man's ear.

'I'm sure I will be in Leningrad again. There are many monsters around these parts, I'm sure I will be called in for one of them.' Yuuri reassured, trying to pass that he wasn't as desperate to stay as Viktor was. He met an angel and his only option was to leave it.

It took his entire will to pull away again.

'But how long will that take?' Viktor begged, grasping at one of Yuuri's hands and tugging him back. But, Yuuri was too strong, staying in his place and Viktor pulled and pulled to no avail.

'I'm not sure.' Yuuri answered solemnly.

'At least let me escort you out privately. If I leave this room I am sure the celebrations will overdo your adieus.' Yuuri nodded, letting himself have a few more minutes with the man would surely not kill him. 'This way.' Viktor smirked, motioning to the window. Yuuri smirked but knew the only way for a prince to escape a tower and not be seen was either through immense training or climbing out of the window.

The climb down was easy, the rubble practically creating a pathway for both of them. When Yuuri reached the bottom, he whistled and surprisingly enough, his horse came. They mustn't have tied the mare up. He wasn't surprised. The black beast could bite when they wanted to.

'Well, I will be on my way.' Yuuri muttered, throwing himself up onto the horse, looking down at Viktor, whose pout was still evident but the mean gleam in his eye suggested he was much more mature than he acted. This man had seen many things, he was a prince after all. He was simply goofy by nature.

'Don't think you can run away from me, Witcher. I'm going to find you and you'll be glad when I do.' Yuuri just smirked at Viktor's words, calling for the horse to move and trotting down the stone path towards his home.

He was already waiting for the day he could come back to Leningrad.

All in sight of an angel.


	6. High Life

Viktor had lived in the spotlight since he was eight-years-old. He had never left it. The dull shine of the light had stopped hurting his eyes after a few years. He became numb to it all. The scraping of the ice became just another noise and not a comfort. His joy became mundane. His sadness became his normal.

He had taken the burden alone as most did. He had people to support him. He didn't let them. He wished them away like people wished upon stars, with hope in his heart but the knowledge, deep down, that his wish would never come true. Maybe he was just a pessimist.

Yes, actually, he was definitely a pessimist.

His goofy smiles and winks were nothing to deter the others from knowing that. Viktor was an actor. He tricked people on land and ice the same. He didn't let people see through the endless gaps in his facade. He pretended they weren't there. It had come so far that others began to doubt they were there at all too.

'Give it up, Viktor. Stop this.' Yuuri's words hadn't come as a surprise. He wished they had. He'd been longing for a surprise. Yuuri had been a surprise. The after-effects had lasted as long as a year. Viktor was surprised it had even lasted that long. But, now, a year later, he found himself bored again. Not with Yuuri. No. He loved Yuuri.

Right?

Right.

He thought.

He wasn't sure.

Was he supposed to feel like that?

'Stop what?' He beamed up at Yuuri from his place on the sofa, running his thin fingers through the thick fur of Makkachin's. He looked happy, he prided himself on his ability to do so.

'Viktor, you know what I mean. Stop this all. It's okay.' Viktor mustered it within himself to look confused at Yuuri's words.

'I don't understand, Yuuri.' Viktor smiled again and ignored Yuuri's crestfallen face. They had had this conversation enough times for Viktor to start believing that it didn't have any effect anymore.

It seemed he was wrong.

'I'm done.' Did Viktor just feel his heart crack?

'What?' He asked, looking up from Makkachin's brown fur.

'I'm done. With this. I'm leaving.' Yuuri's face was stern, serious.

'No you're not.' Viktor denied, standing up.

'I am, Viktor!' Yuuri shouted. Yuuri never shouted. 'You're not happy with me! I can see that! Stop pretending! Stop pretending everything's alright. I love you, Viktor but I can't watch this. I thought...I thought I had saved you...' His voice trailed off, Viktor could hardly hear him. They locked eyes and Viktor watched as the beads of water trailed down Yuuri's cheeks.

'Take it or leave it, Viktor. Stay in the limelight and dwindle away or give it up and, at least, try to be happy. Nothing more, nothing less. All you have to do is try. For me.' Yuuri scraped the ice-cold tears from his cheeks. Viktor just stared.

Yuuri left.

 

Viktor was a pessimist.

Viktor knew he was a pessimist.

He had believed this would go wrong from the start. He ran to Yuuri, chased him because he craved the rush. He loved the rush. They both loved the rush. That's why they fell in love. Then, the rush had ended.

Only one of them had remained in love.

No!

Viktor loved Yuuri.

He was sure of it.

Yes, he was sure of it.

Viktor found himself drawn apart again. He was torn in two. Yuuri had taken half of his heart and had brought it with him when he left through that door. Viktor wasn't what he used to be.

 

Viktor used to be an optimist.

He still denied that he ever was.

Viktor used to not have to fake his smiles. Viktor used to laugh without a care. Viktor used to dance because he loved it. Viktor was always missing something but he always had the hope he would have it.

He had it and it had left through that door.

He stared at the wood and wondered how it had become so significant. Viktor hadn't left the apartment yet. He didn't want to bear the cold of St Petersburg without Yuuri by his side.

He wanted to follow Yuuri. He wanted Yuuri to make up his mind. He wanted Yuuri to take the reigns. He didn't want to have the burden. He could step out of the spotlight and take the darkest way.

He would only leave it, once again.

 

When was the moment Viktor changed?

He thought it was when the spotlight had burnt his skin. He was wrong. His mind played tricks on itself. It was an illusion. In true fact, he couldn't remember. He didn't know when the smiles turned fake. He didn't know when Yuuri no longer was his light. He thought he had replaced the spotlight. It seemed he had just double the exposure.

Now he was burnt beyond repair.

'Viktor?' The door creaked open, slowly and carefully. Yuuri peeked around the door, his dark hair hiding his chocolate eyes.

'I'm back.' He called out carefully, his eyes searching before finally locking on the sprawled out form on the sofa. 'You're still here.' He sighed, almost relieved. 'Viktor, what have you been doing? You can't just lie here all day.' He fussed, approaching and sitting Viktor up and huddling into his side.

'I'm sorry for yesterday, by the way.' Yuuri voiced, his words muffled by Viktor's shoulder. Yuuri looked up to catch Viktor's eyes but Viktor only looked away. 'But, my offer still stands.' He approached the sentences carefully and delicately. Viktor was breakable.

A skater's heart was as fragile as glass.

Yuuri did not want to break it.

'Are you staying?' Viktor whispered, his own voice feeling too loud for the wide space. Yuuri nodded and burrowed further into Viktor's side. Viktor pulled him in, cradling him.

For a few moments, the silence could have made one believe the other was asleep. They both knew their thoughts were wrong. They were stuck awake, staring into the abyss of the now dark room. And, despite the curtains all remaining open, the moonlight was barely enough to light a shadow of the other.

'Why won't you give it up, Viktor?' Yuuri sounded exhausted. Viktor wondered what he could have been doing when he left.

'I still don't understand what you're talking about.' Yuuri resisted the urge to laugh at himself. Viktor would never admit it, would he?

'The high life, Viktor. The fame.' Yuuri couldn't find it within himself to sound exasperated, he was too tired for that. Yet, sleep was still far from him.

'Yuuri, you don't understand. I skate because I love it, the fame is just a side effect. Nothing comes perfectly. I can take it.' Viktor didn't know how he managed to sound quite so convincing. The lies rolled off his tongue, now, like blood pumped through his veins.

'Can you?' It was a simple enough question. Viktor didn't have the guts to answer. 'Viktor,' Yuuri breathed 'just take a break. You're already too old to be competing, you're sticking with it because of me. You don't need to. I'll be fine. Give up your high life. Leave it, for me, Viktor. Please.' Viktor shook his head. Yuuri was wrong. Viktor wasn't still competing because of Yuuri. Yuuri was a reason, yes. But, Viktor skated because he didn't know what he would do without it. It calmed him as much as it stressed him. It kept balance. He was afraid of the chaos that would ensue when he left.

He had left before and returned as a coach.

If he left now, he didn't think he would ever return.

'Fine. Here I was hoping that another go would help. I'm going to Phichit's.' Well, at least, Viktor found out where Yuuri was. Yuuri stood, approaching the door with small but meaningful steps. His hand twisted the knob just as he peered over his shoulder.

'Go to bed, Viktor. You'll regret sleeping on the couch.'

Yuuri had left, again.

Viktor wasn't a pessimist.

He would like to believe he was.

He wasn't.

He didn't want to look for the good. Not at all.

He found himself doing so anyway.

He knew Yuuri would come back. He knew that this would all be resolved. He knew that nothing bad could happen.

He could only hope he was right.

 

The door opened with a slam. Yuuri trudged in. He'd only left an hour before. So, why was he back so early? Viktor wasn't on the sofa but the curtains were still open. The moon was brighter, now. In a position where it illuminated through the window with as much strength as the evening sun.

The grey hue of the room turned to an inky black in the darkness but Yuuri found it somewhat comforting. He was alone. He needed some peace.

He also needed Viktor.

Yuuri tip-toed into the bedroom and found Viktor huddled in a ball in the middle of the bed. He was asleep, much to Yuuri's liking, and Yuuri was happy to join him. Cradling him from behind.

Yuuri finally slept.

They only woke up when a blaring ambulance passed far too close to their open window. 'Ow~' Viktor complained, rubbing his head and the sleep out of his eyes. Yuuri only blearily opened his eyes before letting them fall back into their usual position in trying to sleep again.

Viktor, wallowing in the warmth of Yuuri's body, looked over at the clock. It was already the afternoon. He sighed. He should have known, it looked sunny out. He turned over reluctantly and shook Yuuri awake who opened his eyes with a load groan and a grumble about going back to sleep. Viktor smiled down warmly at the child-like state but pulled Yuuri up and out of bed anyway, breaking the spell of sleep.

Yuuri shook his head minutely and stood on his own two feet, leaning on Viktor slightly as he adjusted to standing. His head felt like it would drop to the floor but he knew the feeling would pass in just a few seconds. 'What time is it?' He mumbled, wiping his face down with his hands.

'It's already the afternoon. Let's get something to eat, my love.' Viktor smiled, that playful smile he reserved for Yuuri and Yuuri alone. It changed nothing. They could feel the crackling tension between them but ignored it with a resolve that food was much more important for the moment.

They both stumbled sleepily into the kitchen and Viktor approached the fridge. 'Don't you dare, Viktor. You are not cooking, especially not when tired. Go sit down.' He didn't want to see another house fire.

'And here I was thinking that you were sleep-ridden enough to let me try.' He feigned offence but followed orders and sat at the table. Yuuri didn't do anything dramatic in the kitchen, only breaking a few eggs and adding a few of their favourite ingredients to make an omelette.

Yuuri watched the omelette sizzle before finally drawing his eyes away from the cooking. Viktor watched him with a subtle smile. Viktor had always liked the domestic things. Or, he had. Yuuri wasn't quite so sure anymore.

'Viktor, why are you ignoring this as a problem?' Yuuri couldn't find any better way to approach the conversation again. Viktor didn't answer but instead stood up and sat at the kitchen counter on one of the bar stools they had bought recently. Viktor stared at Yuuri, the blue and black clashing in a battle of wills.

'Yuuri, why are you so insistent on this? I'm fine.' He reassured, cupping one of Yuuri's cheeks in his rough palm. Yuuri pulled away, taking a step back, careful to keep an eye on the omelette. He waited another minute to speak, only voicing his opinion once the omelette was done and was cut in half and split between them.

'You're not, Viktor. I know you. You're not happy. Maybe I've got the reason wrong but I don't think so. Unless, that is, the reason is...' Me was an unspoken word which both understood. Over the years, Yuuri had grown out of his insecurity over the years. It still appeared now and then but Viktor was always quick to crush it.

'No, Yuuri. That's not it. But, you're wrong anyway. I'm not unhappy. I'm happier than I have been in years.' Viktor reassured, smiling as much as he could. He could barely muster a twitch of his lips.

'You want more.' Viktor bowed his head, he was already ready to give it up. 'Viktor, you've been stuck in the high life since you were young. You've never escaped the spotlight and maybe you never will. But, try. Step out for a bit. We'll drive somewhere, have some peace for a bit. It might follow you, who knows what the media is doing these days but we'll have each other. Is that not enough?' Viktor contemplated, staring down at his half eaten food.

'Do you really think it would work?' There. The moment Yuuri had been waiting for. With far more strength than before, Yuuri began to speak again.

'Of course! Even if it doesn't, we have to try. Come on, Viktor! It'll be a romantic getaway for the top two ranking male figure skaters in the world.' Yuuri still wouldn't shut up about the article that had come out about them, naming them as the top two. Although, Yurio certainly hadn't been happy.

'You owe plenty to figure skating, Viktor but we have to leave room for the next people. Some day, our world records will be beaten and that's alright. Because at least we knew we set one in the first place. You own everything you want, Viktor. Own your life too.' They smiled at each other, the cheesiness of it only just hitting them. For a motivational speech, it wasn't all that bad. Yuuri couldn't help but let out a small burst of laughter, followed by a much louder and rather obnoxious cackle. Viktor couldn't help but join in. Soon enough, they were both in hysterics, ignoring the already cold food on their plates.

Viktor realised he should never have doubted Yuuri.

He loved Yuuri and Yuuri loved him.

Yuuri would never stop surprising him.

So, when Yuuri left, he left too.


	7. Made For You

Viktor sat at his charred desk, his fingernail scraping at the delicate wood. It chipped and flinched under the weight as his other hand dug a pen into the already splintered mahogany. The desk had been a gift but he couldn't help but mutilate it. He wasn't in his right mind, he didn't think of just where the desk had come from.

Viktor was panicking, badly. Viktor tended to keep his cool under most situations, in that way he was Yuuri's rock. They were good for each other. They balanced each other- even if his methods of comforting were offering to kiss it better. Yuuri was not a child.

Pressure had never been something Viktor had given in to. The weight had been a heavy burden but he carried it with grace and dignity. He got used to it, the weight no longer felt so heavy, even if nothing had changed.

That was until another load had been thrown on top.

Offering to be Yuuri's coach and skate himself was a stupid deal from the beginning. It was ridiculous, really. When they had started skating, Yuuri had revealed that he thought Viktor was joking or, at least, would only be coaching part time. Not every training session.

Viktor had barely the time to do his own routines, fitting them at midnight sessions in the Hasetsu ring. He had become so busy that Yuuko had given in and just given him a key, unable to stay up all hours to let either of them in. Yuuri did morning, Viktor did evenings, getting a few precious hours of sleep in between.

Viktor was exhausted, mentally and physically. The emotions were drained from his performances and his practices were no more than instilling bad habits. At this point, he wasn't even sure the routine he was rehearsing was following the moves he had originally choreographed. He had given up, making each wrong move one that was supposed to happen. It was clumsy and distasteful, even if Yuuri said he looked beautiful doing it.

Yuuri would never say anything else.

Viktor, trying to cool his burning hands- the pen leaving small blisters on his fingers- shook his hands and lay them gently on the keyboard of his computer, skimming the pads of his fingers against the uneven surface of the keys.

He found the mouse lazily and brought up his email, typing in Yakov's name. Yakov, technically, was his coach. For show only. But, at this point, Yakov had given up as much as he had. As long as Viktor kept paying, Yakov would bark his orders but Viktor never listened. It had always been one of Viktor's quirks. Now, it was just making him a bad skater. It wasn't as if Yakov was there, anyway. They video called as Viktor thought it would be for the best that Yuuri stay at his home rink, away from too many skaters.

Their rink now. It didn't seem quite right that he was forcing Yuuri to share.

His fingers move quickly and with grace, tapping down on the large keys, the echoing sound of the clicks loud and annoying. His head hurt and the load noises were doing him no help. He wanted silence but he had to get this done.

He had to write his resignation letter.

He typed with efficiency, his fingers beginning to ache as they darted from key to key. He had always been a fast typer, not supersonic, but it was enough to make his fingers ache if he typed for long enough. He had had to work in an office once as a secretary and had been required to learn the art of writing emails and quickly.

The training was coming in handy.

He had to finish this before Yuuri came.

He quickly scrolled through the few short paragraphs he had written, proofreading the messy words. It was disjointed but the odd style got his feeling across well enough. Not that Yakov would care. Viktor leaving was one less person to deal with, he would get the same pay even without Viktor on his side, skaters were dying to train under him.

Feeling deflated, he moved to hit send, contemplating whether to scrap the whole thing or maybe just trying to write it again. He didn't want to hit send. But he had to. He couldn't bear this anymore. It was killing him from the inside out. He had lived his whole life with the motto to be happy as often as possible and this, this was draining him. It was draining him for no reason.

He had done this for Yuuri. But now, he could see, Yuuri didn't need him. They had competed against each other in a few of the small ones but this would have thousands of people watching. He couldn't do that. With what it felt like now, he could only imagine what it would feel like on the ice.

When he used to lose himself, he now controlled himself. The swan had become a robot. His white hair had become grey and his long limbs had become lanky. At the best of times, he looked awkward.

He moved the mouse away, falling back in his chair, too tired to even bother deleting it. Maybe he would still send it, maybe he wouldn't. He wondered what Yuuri would think about this whole ordeal. He would tell him he was being stupid, surely. But, Viktor could never entirely predict Yuuri. Yuuri broke his expectations over and over again. Maybe, he would agree with Viktor, told him that he shouldn't have to deal with the stress. Viktor knew, at that point, he was lying to himself.

How was Yuuri going to handle him? It had always been him that brought Yuuri back to his feet but what about what he fell? Would he fall and have to claw his way back up himself or did Yuuri had the strength to pull him back up?

Everyone wants him to make it. That was the main problem. He had so many fans cheering him on, knowing he was going to win. Or, at least, that he was most likely to win. Now, he wasn't so sure. He was up against the new and the young. The brilliant. The ones that were defying everything. Yurio, despite awkwardly having to grow into his new body, still beat him on both performance and technical at the moment, he had been told personally by Yakov.

There had been plenty of times that Yurio had beaten him but not by this much.

Not ever.

Everyone wants him to make it; he can't.

He just can't. It's as simple as that. He can't do it. He knows he can't. He can't give an explanation, it's in his heart. He had always listened to his heart, followed his impulses. This was just another one. Nothing would come of it. Look where his last one had got him, living with his husband in a beautiful inn with the luxury of coaching him.

But then again, that was the entire problem.

The gold was his for the taking, the audience believed he could grab it. Everybody wants him to make it, it's all his. He owns the skating world, he rules it. He is the king of the ice. A king that no longer believes in himself, letting himself crumble under the power. He had to set an example, the burden of that was more than any other circumstance could give him.

He felt alone.

He wasn't.

He still felt it.

'Viktor, what are you...' He paused, squinting at the screen, his eyebrows becoming hidden by the blue frames of his glasses. 'Viktor. What is this?' Yuuri didn't quite believe what he was seeing. This couldn't be true. Viktor couldn't be leaving.

He promised.

He promised he would stay.

'I...was about to delete it.' Viktor whispered. He couldn't deliberate whether he was lying about it. Yuuri, though, didn't pay attention to Viktor's words and leant over, prying Viktor's fingers from the mouse and replacing them with his own.

The delete button was pressed as fast as lightning.

'Viktor, why would you do this?' Yuuri asked, his eyes betraying him. Viktor drew within himself, hunching over like he was thirty years his elder. 'Viktor, tell me.' Yuuri's voice was as sharp as it could be in the situation. He looked nervous, on the verge of breaking but he kept his composure, for Viktor's sake.

'I...I don't think I can do this. Both of the jobs. I want to keep coaching you but I can't compete against you. I, I promised myself I wouldn't let myself be unhappy unless it was necessary. So, I decided to give it up. For my happiness and yours. If I'm like this, I know it reflects on you.' Their eyes met, blue on brown- a pairing so clearly matched that their eyes found each other at the same time.

'You don't believe in yourself.' Yuuri could pick out the meaning of his words, the meaning behind it all. He knew Viktor wasn't doing this for him but he didn't care. Viktor deserved to be a little selfish after all he had done for Yuuri. Viktor didn't reply but the bow of his head was enough to indicate that Yuuri was right.

Wrapping his arms around Viktor's neck, he buried his face into Viktor's shoulder, right where he knew Viktor loved it most, pressing his lips gently to the skin's surface. 'Viktor, you don't understand how beautiful you are when you skate. I sneak in sometimes, you know. At midnight, when you're lost in your little world and I can't sleep. I see the lines in your face that tell me that you aren't feeling it but the movements, they're beautiful. You are beautiful, Vitya.' His Russian nickname, or as close as it could come to one, sounded beautiful on Yuuri's lips, brushing his skin with every movement. It was in times like these that he loved Yuuri the most, when their bodies were tangled, domestically and simply. Nothing more needed to be done. They just needed to hold each other- just to know the other was there.

'I'm nervous too. I can't deny that. You know me.' The nervous chuckle was not overlooked. 'But, we can both do this. We've both held world records, even if Yurio will most likely beat us both.' The laugh held more substance this time. Yurio never failed to bring a smile to their faces. He was growing up, now, even if he still was the angsty teen he always had been.

They enjoyed playing the part of loco-parentis when they could. They would love him as their son, even if currently it was as fictional as their romantic feelings for women.

Yuuri drew away suddenly, his eyes hardened with a dedicated determination. 'Look, Viktor. The worst that'll happen is that we'll take last place. But guess what? That doesn't matter. We have each other, we shouldn't rely on skating. We both have degrees, we have so many other choices in life. Skating is forever but, for now, why don't we at least try? If we lose, we lose with dignity.' They smiled at each other, the pep talk enough to lift both their spirits. Yuuri didn't know he had it in him but since meeting Viktor, he seemed to be making a lot more.

Viktor's emotions fluctuated, a lot. Yuuri had to deal with it on a daily basis but he never complained. He rather enjoyed it, really. It was what made Viktor, well, Viktor.

Viktor, with as much energy as he could muster, stood and turned, looking down at Yuuri with a warm smile. He pushed him into his arms, threading his pale fingers through the raven locks. It was a beautiful sight, the white against the black. Viktor couldn't wait to see it when the threads of grey started growing through.

'I love you.' Viktor whispered, leaning down to rest his forehead against Viktor's. His smile one from the heart and not the mind. This was natural. This was Viktor. As was everything when he was Yuuri. He didn't need to pretend. Yuuri idolised him still, even after seeing all his terrible quirks and odd traits.

They loved each other.

'I love you too.'

-

The ice taunted Viktor, gleaming under the heavy lighting. The scratches were being washed away in anticipation of his skate. The last skater really had chopped up the ice. Viktor was last to participate. All the scores had been given out.

He had no hopes of gaining first place.

But, he would fight for second.

Yuuri, having skated as beautifully as ever, had finally taken first place and Yurio was following a close second. Viktor doubted he could beat Yurio but he would try. Even if it landed him in sixth.

Which it, most likely, would.

He had another few minutes, minutes he wished he didn't have. He wished to skate. He didn't want to dwell. He didn't want to think. He wanted to lose himself on the ice, even if he hadn't been able to in weeks. He knew he wouldn't. An audience made it harder and he was pent up.

Even skating wasn't going to help him now.

'What if I fall?' Viktor hadn't had a proper fall in years. He had touched down, that was inevitable but never had he plummeted. He had hit the ice many times as a junior, trying jumps that were far too hard for him. And, in his early senior career, the pattern had followed until he had become too experienced to flub them anymore. He practiced too much. That didn't mean it couldn't happen, though. So far, it was just luck.

'You won't. You haven't in years.' His thoughts exactly but coming from Yuuri, they felt so much more reassuring.

'What if I forget the program?' His mind buzzed, dipping its feet into the pool of hard, cold anxiety.

'You won't. You've practiced.' Yuuri's answers were becoming shorter. He couldn't phrase them any longer. He had given all the reassurance he could. Viktor had put up a good face for Yuuri and had given him as best a pep talk as he could but Yuuri could see it was off.

Yuuri wanted to blame Viktor for his anxiety when his skates touched the harsh ice but, with a performance scoring so high, he couldn't help feel anything but pity for the older man. That and love. And odd mix, one that almost made Yuuri feel guilty.

'But what if I did? What if I went on and just froze.' Yuuri sighed at Viktor's pressing arguments. Of course, both of them knew nothing that Viktor threw at him would actually happen but it was beginning to be hard to find any logic that wasn't repetitive.

'You can improvise, Viktor. You're a figure skater, that's what we do.' Yuuri pinched his nose before clutching Viktor's shoulder and forcing him to face him, his palms uncomfortably scratched by the sequins on the costume's shoulders. 'You're going to do fine.' Yakov had finally turned from Yurio, after giving the usual rant on how he should have done better (and beaten Yuuri, that went unsaid). He was looking at them quizically but said nothing and let Yuuri had his moment before he told Viktor what he needed to do.

Yakov had seen the performance for the first time yesterday. He said it was disappointing in comparison to previous competitions and had only dragged Viktor down further. It wasn't Yakov's fault. He always said that but Viktor always had the ego to prove him wrong.

This time, it hadn't seemed to work.

'You're going to do fine because I did fine and we split the work between us. You were my coach and in some ways, I'm yours too. We are a team, Viktor. We're in this together and please, for the love of god, do NOT make a High School Musical reference right now. Anyway, if I'm in first place, you can sure as hell take second.' Yuuri paused to lean in, his mouth almost pressing against Viktor's ears. The clicking of cameras was only a distant sound. 'But, I'm not letting you get first just yet.' Viktor laughed and Yuuri pulled back, a gentle smile on his face. Viktor nodded, taking a deep breath.

'I can do this.' The uncertainty killed Yuuri but it was a step. Viktor, reassuring himself one last time, turned to Yakov to be prepped. Yakov wasn't long and simply reminded Viktor to try his hardest. Viktor was fragile right now and despite Yakov's hostile and unfriendly manner, he knew what his skaters needed and he did it. If that meant Viktor didn't need a nagging before hand then that was it.

It was Viktor's turn. The lights had dimmed slightly, a cue for his entrance and it took a shove from Yuuri (who almost sent him stumbling into the ice) for him to get onto the cold, shaky ground. With one last 'I love you' from Yuuri, he was skating towards the middle, raising his arms in welcome of the roaring crowd.

He wasn't sure if he was making it up or whether the audience didn't cheer as loud as they used to.

Viktor felt like his legs were going to fail him. He felt limp and exhausted. He didn't have the energy to perform. His arms fell to his side and his gaze to the floor, the starting position. One supposed to represent the beginning of a birth, from there he would grow. He wasn't sure if he could grow at all.

In the corner of his eye, he caught Yuuri, who was standing in the perfect position for him to see, as if he had planned it. Maybe he had. He was smiling, beaming in fact. It was beautiful; Yuuri's smile had never been anything less. It gave Viktor strength. It always did.

That beauty gave him the strength.

To perform and, more importantly, to love what he performed.

He started to stretch from the bottom, raising himself until he was tall and proud. This was the story of his past, growing from the insecure teenager into the man he was today. When he found the love he needed.

Could he feel the love for him now?

He should have.

It was there, thick and warm.

Like it was made for him.

Because it was.

He continued to move, lithely but full of energy. He was passionate. He loved what he did and this was it, the performance. He loved the attention as much as he loved the thrill of it. He craved the adrenaline. Nothing could take that away from him, not even his dark thoughts.

All because Yuuri was there to bring him back up.

People always assumed that Viktor was Yuuri's rock, with him being the coach and also Yuuri's anxiety. But, no. Neither of them took the role. They were in an equilibrium, one not shaken by change. When one fell, the other pulled back the perfect amount to balance the equilibrium again.

They worked in harmony. A harmony that could only be formed out of love.

That didn't mean the equilibrium didn't shake at times. There was always a point of unstableness. But, they never fell. They could wobble and they could tremble but they would never let go. They would hold each other until their lasts breath and with that, they would never feel alone.

Those moments where they shook hit hard. Viktor had reached the part of his performance where his fear was supposed to be represented. Fear of the unknown, fear of the people older than him, better than him. He drew from the glitch in the equilibrium and brought out those emotions.

-

_'Tell me something,_

_Something that will move me,_

_Don't tell me lies,_

_I swear you're gonna lose me.'_

They had reached the stadium and Viktor was still a mess. Yuuri was pretending he was alright, even if his anxiety was eating him down, leaving him a shaking skeleton. They had broken the balance.

They were both out of their comfort zone.

They didn't even have the energy to try and comfort the other.

'Viktor, I think I'm going into an attack.' Yuuri didn't bother hiding it anymore, there was no point. Usually, Viktor had already noticed and would wait for him to say it. This time, Viktor was too lost in his own thoughts to concentrate.

'You're fine.' Such dismissal. It was like Viktor didn't care at all. At that moment in time, he didn't.

'Viktor,' Yuuri warned, his breath picking up. Tears threatened his eyes. He hadn't had to deal an attack by himself for years. It was never pretty. Before he had Viktor, he had Phichit and before that, his family. Only on a few instances had he dealt with them alone. And then Viktor had come and he never had to.

Until now.

'You're fine, Yuuri. Take deep breaths.' Viktor was gazing at anything but Yuuri, his mind clearly on something else.

'Viktor,' tears were about to fall. 'Please, I...' Yuuri didn't know what he needed. 'Say anything, Viktor. Just speak to me. Don't just stare at the bloody stadium sign!' Viktor didn't turn still. It was almost as if he hadn't heard Yuuri. 'Viktor! I swear, if you don't answer me now...' A pause, a long pause. 'I'm leaving!' A threat.

Viktor still didn't listen.

It had taken Yuuri to have an attack before Viktor had noticed.

Yuuri had forgiven him; he didn't have the strength to leave, he loved him too much, almost like a woman to her abusive husband. Viktor wasn't abusive, no. But, then, it was almost like he was abusing him emotionally. Or rather, neglecting.

Viktor apologised and Yuuri had said that it was okay. It was, he performed his best short program ever and the next day, he did one of his top three free skates. He would have even made a world record if it weren't for Yurio beating him in the short program, again.

Yuuri had learnt to draw from his pain, to make it useful. Viktor, he was a novice. His pain only brought him down. His pain only ruined him.

-

Viktor's piece was beautiful. The audience were enraptured by the fluidity of the man's body, tarnished only by the harsh scrapes of his skates against the ice and even that was beautiful in its own way.

His performance wasn't perfect. It didn't need to be. He was Viktor Nikiforov. He was the king of the ice. Whatever he did, it would be beautiful. Everyone thought so. Even if his jumps weren't perfect and he had touched down once, he didn't care.

His performance was still nothing but exactly what he wanted. And that changed, that changed so he still surprised the audience. He was proud of himself.

He had surprised the audience not by bringing perfection but not.

For the hours he had spent, it was as good as he could have hoped. Better. He could have never thought it would go so well. He came off the ice smiling and he saw that Yuuri was crying. For a moment, he thought that he was having another attack but when he saw the toothy smile and the choked laughs, he knew it was something far different.

Yuuri didn't say a word, simply standing in the way of the exit. Viktor looked down confused for a second when Yuuri grabbed the lapels of his jacket and pulled him down to his level. Viktor almost fell onto the ice, only held by the sharp edge of his skate digging into the already chipped ice.

Their lips met in a crash of lips, desperate but one emotion overriding the rest. Love. Tinged helpfully with the admiration Yuuri had always held him with. He couldn't help but think back to the time when he had kissed Yuuri the same way, revealing them to an audience, live and recorded, of thousands. Maybe even more.

It had been the best moment of his life.

'I love you, Viktor.' He thought that this might have made second.

He should have known.

Everybody wanted to make it.

It was all his.

And, even if reluctantly, he took it and held it with dignity.

He had taken third place, Yurio second and Yuuri first. The 'skating trio' on the podium together, making the newspapers worldwide the next day. Viktor realised then that he was loved and it wasn't pressure that had been put on him, it was endless amounts of love that he had neglected.

After that day, he had never let the pressure get to him again.

For his sake and, more importantly, Yuuri's.

'I love you too.'


	8. Are You Drunk?

The club was ablaze with lights, flashing neon purples and blues against the dark dancefloor where bodies bustled against each other, doing things that no human was supposed to do in public. The music boomed thick bass as the body bounced to its rhythm, the dark-haired DJ smiling as he turned the volume up, his leather jacket still on despite the heat.

Yuuri was out of place. Clearly, clearly out of place. But he was, at least, drunk. Three shots, courtesy of Phichit, had left him buzzed and then when the guy had bought them his next drink, he had fallen off the edge.

Stumbling into the crowd, Yuuri smiled, trying to forget it all. Coming out had been a problem for him, especially at the mention that he wasn’t exclusively into men but into all genders. No one had taken it that well. Greedy, they said. Why can’t you just pick one, they said. Yuuri had learnt to ignore them, even continue smiling as they said it.

It had long since bothered him.

Although, it was affecting his relationship status. So Phichit, with his perfect plans, had pushed him into this gay bar saying to at least just pick a man and bring him home- no need to make an actual relationship out of it.

Although Yuuri didn’t like the idea, he had accepted, simply for Phichit’s ease of mind- and that he would never hear the end of it if he didn’t. Now, toppling over his own feet, he realised just how much he would regret this in the morning. For now, though, he was dandy. Perfect even.

That last drink had done the trick. He was entranced by the lights, drawn by the bodies and moved by the beat. He smiled, his teeth gleaming in the odd lights, his white top illuminated by the UV.

He could feel his sweat staining his top but paid no attention to it as he swung his hips to the beat, swinging his hair back and forth, letting it fall into his face. It was for that reason that he didn’t see the man who had approached him and began to dance with him, the same rhythm, the same smile, together. Yuuri saw the twinkle of blue that must have been his eyes and the flicker of silver when he flung his head back- his hair.

His pale skin glowed as they grasped at each other’s hips and began to dance again, this time as one, not a pair. Yuuri could feel every touch, every beat. And before he knew it, he was dragged into a corner by this glowing stranger, barely able to hold up his feet.

Yuuri was trapped by the time they found their little alcove, out of the way. ‘Crap. How drunk are you?’ He whispered as Yuuri fell, only to be kept up by the platinum-haired man’s arms.

‘What’s your name? Vladimir?’ Yuuri slurred, making fun of the man’s thick Russian accent. The man could only sigh, ‘it’s Viktor actually. You really are drunk. How much have you drunk?’ He asked and despite the Russian accent, speaking perfect English.

‘Not much.’ Yuuri mumbled, the words barely comprehensible. Only now did he realise that he had much more than he usually had. He seemed to have forgotten sitting at the bar with the man on the third drink he had bought him. Time was a lost cause, he had been in and out of memory, barely able to remember dancing at this point. What had he drunk? It must have been strong, for sure.

He needed to find Phichit but oh, he did not want to leave this man. Viktor. ‘Do you have someone that can get you home?’ Viktor asked, his eyes filled with worry and despite the few shots he and Chris had done before they came, he had sobered up quickly.

‘No.’ Yuuri lied, smiling brightly, watching as Viktor’s azure eyes darted around the room. ‘Why don’t you help me?’ He slurred, placing a hand on Viktor’s chest flirtily. It was not working. Viktor hadn’t been about to hold back, they had found a private spot after all but he wasn’t going to take advantage of someone who was clearly going to blackout at some point soon and was barely able to hold themselves up at the moment.

‘I might just have to.’ Viktor sighed, smiling gently down at the shorter boy. ‘What’s your name, cutie?’ He hauled Yuuri back onto his own feet before Yuuri could answer, holding him up so he wouldn’t fall.

‘Yuuri.’ He rolled his r’s, practically purring, never leaving Viktor’s gaze, entranced. Viktor really had gotten stuck in a pile of sh*t, hadn’t he? Taking home some boy he didn’t know who most likely wouldn’t remember him tomorrow. Oh, but to hell with it. This boy needed help and Viktor was going to provide it.

‘Well, come on, Yuuri. Let’s get you home.’ Viktor dragged him outside, still having to hold him up, practically dragging him along the pavement. The streets of London were bustling at this time of night and plenty of people stood outside, trying to hail a taxi or taking the easy route and ordering and Uber.

Quickly, Viktor texted Chris and told him he had to go, only to get a reply of at least thirty sad faces but Viktor knew it meant nothing, Chris just had a penchant for the dramatic. Then, straying from his messaging app to the Uber app, he ordered a taxi for Yuuri. He better remember me, he suddenly thought, I’m buying him a bloody taxi. Viktor smiled at himself, even if he didn’t really mind about paying, it really would be nice if the boy remembered him. He was a good-looking guy, like, a really good looking guy. Maybe not in the traditional sense of the word but Viktor could think of a thousand things he could fall in love with already. Maybe that was moving too fast but Viktor, just as Chris had a penchant for the dramatic, had a penchant for falling too hard, too fast. It was a fun game that he would soon have to stop but he liked it for now. He looked at Yuuri, why did he suddenly feel that he should slow down?

‘Yuuri, give me your phone.’ He said, holding out his hand, as they waited in the cold- both shivering for the lack of a jacket, Viktor’s was still inside but he would get it once he sent Yuuri back home.

‘Wha~t? It’s mine.’ Yuuri pouted, glaring playfully at Viktor.

‘I’ll give it back.’ Viktor sighed, rolling his eyes and finally found the phone in his hand. Dangerously, there was no password on the thing but it made things easier for Viktor as he typed his name in, making sure to add as many hearts onto the end as was possible. Hopefully, that would make him memorable enough to give a ring- or maybe get a refund on this taxi ride.

As soon as he was done, the taxi arrived, freeing Yuuri from the cold and hopefully letting Viktor go back inside and getting his coat before he left himself. He wasn’t in the mood to stay; he was in the mood to brood at home and wonder whether he was ever going to get a call.

‘Yuuri, this is you.’ Viktor smiled, leading him to the right taxi, one in a line of over a dozen, all piled up with drunk men making out. ‘No! You have to come too.’ Yuuri slurred, grasping Viktor’s arm tightly and giving him the best puppy eyes he could muster.

‘Yuuri, I can’t.’

‘Viktor~!’ Viktor gave in immediately.

‘Fine, we’re going to mine, though.’ Viktor complained, explaining to the taxi driver that their route had changed before letting Yuuri rest his head on his shoulder, smiling subtly. It was only once they left that he realised he had left his jacket behind.

Thank god his keys were on him, he didn’t trust leaving them after they had gotten stolen last year- that had given him a fright. But, it did mean that he would have to get Chris to pick it up and bring it to him tomorrow but, luckily, it was all sorted in another text.

It didn’t take long to reach Viktor’s flat on the East side of the city in a Victorian-looking house that had been turned into flat somewhere in the twentieth century. The apartment itself was small but still took three flights of stairs to reach, being located in what would have been the attic- the best Viktor could afford when moving from Russia, London’s house prices are extortionate. It was warm enough, the insulation put in before Viktor moved but he still needed to tuck Yuuri into rolls of blankets when he began to complain about the cold, whining like he was a child again.

Viktor followed obediently anyways, a small smile playing on his face all the while whilst Yuuri sat, wrapped in the blankets, with a mug of tea in his hands- made properly with the tea leaves that Viktor had thought was a good investment whilst trying to ‘fit in’ with British culture. He should have known he was too outstanding for that sort of thing.

Viktor was a fabulous queen, not a gloomy Briton- as they all were, of course.

And, that’s what made Yuuri stand out. Yuuri’s accent, although fairly faint, was clearly not British. An Asian country, that alone was easy to deduce from his looks, but which one Viktor had yet to figure out suddenly wishing his school had given him a little more education on Asian countries. Then again, he couldn’t remember a time where his school had taught him anything about any of Asia.

‘Yuuri, are you still awake?’ He was met with an incomprehensible grumble causing him to laugh. ‘Yuuri?’ He sighed. ‘Yuuri, if you are we can move you to somewhere more comfortable. This is a sofa bed, I just need to pull it out.’ Another grumble. ‘Yuuri.’ He brought out Dad Viktor voice- this was what Yurio had been training him for all these years.

‘Fine.’ Yuuri groaned, still not standing but rather sloppily falling to the floor, shuffling his legs until, in this sort of caterpillar crawl, he had reached the other end of the floor. ‘The laziness of millennials, I thought they were lying but apparently not.’ Viktor joked as Yuuri huddled in on himself and smiled at Viktor from his cocoon.

Viktor pulled out the bed and threw a blanket on it and grabbed a pillow from his room, flinging it onto the pile. Yuuri had enough attached to him already to keep him warm. ‘Come on, Yuuri, back to the den.’ Viktor got on his knees, patting his knees as if he was a dog and to his surprise, he got no sarcastic comments or grumbles and only an obedient twenty-something-year-old shuffling towards him, his legs flailing in awkward directions.

Yuuri, as quickly as was possible for someone in his situation, plopped himself on the bed, throwing his arms out of the wrap and around the pillow, burying his nose in it- pretending it was for comfort when, in fact, it was just his drunk-self having the confidence to smell Viktor, even if it was only second hand.

He didn’t believe he had just called a smell second hand. He didn’t think that’s how it worked.

‘I’ll see you in the morning Yuuri.’

‘No~!’ Yuuri whined, his voice muffled by the pillow. ‘Stay.’ He humphed, hugging the pillow tighter. Oh god, this boy could not get more adorable. Viktor was actually beginning to swoon, all whilst reminding himself that he wasn’t going to take advantage of a drunk boy who was clearly younger than him in his own house. Not that doing it at someone else’s house would make it any better. Ah, forget he thought anything.

‘Yuuri, I can’t-’

‘Stay!’ He whined, louder than before, throwing his face from the pillow and pouting, his eye’s wide and round. God, Viktor thought, his eyes are beautiful.

‘Yuuri, I really can’t.’

‘Why not?’ His pout grew larger.’

‘Because, Yuuri, you are drunk.’

‘Am I drunk?’

‘Are you drunk? Of course you are drunk.’

‘No I’m not.’

‘Yes, you are.’

‘No, I’m not, so stay.’ Yuuri’s eyes grew larger than Viktor thought was even possible.

How was it again that I agreed to this, Viktor found himself asking five minutes later with Yuuri’s arms wrapped tightly around his waist, his head nestled into his stomach. ‘You’re beautiful.’ Yuuri mumbled into his stomach.

‘I know I am.’ Viktor joked, trying to quell the butterflies in his stomach at the compliment.

‘No, Viktor, you really are. You’re kireina.’ Was that Japanese? That sounded very Japanese.

‘Thank you, milashka.’ Yuuri suddenly laughed, the vibrations rippling throughout Viktor’s body.

‘Russian sounds funny.’

‘Does it.’

‘Uh huh.’ Nothing else was spoken, the silence not needed to be unnecessarily filled. The silence was nice, it was calm. It almost let Viktor forget that this was a stranger in his bed. A drunk stranger.

Oh god, why had he invited a drunk stranger to his house?

Although, it was a very beautiful stranger. A very, very beautiful stranger. One, that if they weren’t drunk, Viktor would have gone far further with by now. But, he hadn’t. He hadn’t rushed this. He hadn’t taken advantage of Yuuri. He had let himself, even in his buzzed state, show some self-control for once. He was glad for it. It made him feel better than he ever could have suspected.

Soon enough, they were both asleep, forgetting that tomorrow was going to be a very different situation. A very, very different situation.

-

The morning began with a scream. A very loud one. One that Viktor assessed as something to panic about. Yes, Yuuri was panicking. But no, there wasn’t a fire and no, there wasn’t a burglar. But yes, Yuuri was sleeping in a stranger’s bed.

The predicament that came afterwards was...interesting.

‘What did we do?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Definitely?’

‘Definitely.’

‘So why is your shirt off?’

‘I sleep with my shirt off.’

‘What’s your name again?’

‘Viktor.’

‘Oh god, I slept in a stranger’s house.’

‘Yes, you did.’ Despite the accusations, Viktor couldn’t help but smile throughout the exchange, Yuuri’s defiant and stubborn nature something that no doubt would entertain Viktor for far longer than it should. ‘Coffee?’

Yuuri didn’t answer but Viktor it would be the best for the both of them if he got them a coffee to wake them up. He made sure, on the way, to get a painkiller from the packet in the drawer under the sink and give it to Yuuri along with the mug.

‘For the hangover. Might not do much but…’

‘Thanks.’ Their eyes caught in their awkward dance of looking anywhere but each other and a small smile was brought to both of their little lips as they laughed it off awkwardly and took a sip of their coffee at the same time.

‘This is as awkward as I think it is, right?’ Viktor joked, his smile falling into some sort of half grin. Yuuri nodded, quickly gulping down another bout of coffee to pretend he wasn’t blushing from behind the pristine china.

‘Definitely.’ He piped up quietly, taking another gulp of coffee.

‘How about after you go, you can give me a text and we can have a much better conversation?’ Viktor didn’t think he had ever asked anyone out so clumsily. This was the smooth-talker champion here and he could barely even ask a boy to text him.

Yuuri was changing him already. And he loved it.

‘Yeah, that would be good. I’ll get my phone you can put your number in.’ He smiled and placed down his coffee, rushing to where his phone was strewn on the floor. Going along with it, Viktor smiled when the contacts page was shown in front of him, his name hidden somewhere below the screen. Withholding a laugh, he pretended to press ‘add contact’ whilst he scrolled down to where his name was, pretending to type whilst checking his number was right- he wasn’t that drunk but it was for the best.

‘Here.’ Viktor handed the phone back and Yuuri laughed when he saw the plethora of hearts, Viktor didn’t have the guts to delete them. ‘I guess it’s a date.’ Their eyes met this time with no hesitation.

‘Yeah, I guess it is.’


End file.
